


Old Dog, New Tricks

by judes



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 01:46:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1208269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/judes/pseuds/judes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the WriteTime story challenge 2012.  Had to use an episode title from the television series, The Professionals, as the story title.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Dog, New Tricks

“5,000 years is a hell of a long time, Joe. He must have seen and done just about everything.”

“You’re assuming that he’s been truthful about his age.” Joe Dawson, Watcher and friend to a number of prominent Immortals, finished wiping down the wooden bar, threw the damp cloth back into the sink and came to stand across from Duncan MacLeod, who had been musing on the long-life of his lover, Methos.

“I know he’s old, Joe, I can feel it in his Quickening.”

“But do you know when he’s telling the truth?”

“Ah there’s the rub. I believe he’s truthful with me most of the time but he’s a devious bastard at the best of times and now is not the best of times.”

“What’s he done now?” Joe’s tone was sympathetic but his expression was wry. He was only too well aware of the difficulties the two Immortals faced in maintaining a relationship. They had survived the tribulations brought by the demon, Ahriman, and were now settling back into what passed for a normal life, having returned to Seacouver in the Pacific Northwest.

“Nothing in particular,” Duncan’s tone was rueful. “I thought it might be a good idea to celebrate his birthday. After all, he had a good time at my 408th. But he nearly bit my head off at the merest suggestion that we pick an ‘official’ birthday for him.”

“Have you ever thought that he doesn’t want to recognise a mythical birthday? And who would you invite? Can’t exactly send out a card saying ‘Methos invites you to his 5000th birthday party. Leave your swords at home.’”

“True, Joe, very true. Oh well, I guess I’ll think of something else. Anyway must be off. Be seeing you.” And with that Duncan strode out of the bar, dark overcoat swirling, leaving a somewhat bemused Joe Dawson staring after him.

 

Several weeks later, a tall lanky fellow entered the bar, wended his way through the crowd and found a stool at the corner of the bar on which to perch. Catching the barman’s eye, he ordered a beer then settled to listen to the resident bluesman’s rendition of “Stand by me”.

At the end of the set, Joe made his way through the crowded room, stopping occasionally to acknowledge comments and suggestions from his appreciative audience. Not having seen either MacLeod or Methos since the conversation about birthday parties, he was curious as to whether or not the Scot had come up with a solution.

“So, Adam, long time no see.” Joe signalled the barman to refill Methos’ glass and accepted a whisky for himself. Methos was once again using his ‘Adam Pierson’ alias, having re-joined the Watcher organisation and was in charge of finding the truly ancient Immortals. A fine cover behind which to hide his own true identity. He spent a lot of his time flitting around the world chasing supposed sightings of himself, which gave him the ideal opportunity to indulge his wanderlust. But always he now returned to Duncan MacLeod.

“Hey, Joe. You’re in fine voice.” 

“Keeping up the practice. And how are you?”

“As you see. Still here in Seacouver.”

“And Mac.”

“No idea. Last time I saw him he was heading out the door.”

“You had another row?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a row. More a slight difference of opinion.” 

Joe laughed. A ‘slight difference of opinion’ could quite easily be the outbreak of World War 3. Methos was known for understatements.

“What did you say?” queried the curious bar owner.

“Me! I didn’t say anything!” Methos took a large gulp of beer before continuing. “Well … I suppose I shot down in flames his latest plan. Did you know he wanted to throw a birthday party for me? For me! Why would I want a birthday party?”

“Perhaps he thought you would enjoy it.” Joe offered in his best ‘keep the Immortal calm voice’. It was never wise to antagonise someone carrying a concealed broad sword.

About to offer a pithy rejoinder, Methos paused before replying. “Mmm. That would be a MacLeod thing to do, wouldn’t it?” He looked thoughtfully at his companion. “And what do you think, Joe? Should I humour the boy?”

“Oh, don’t drag me into this.”

“Don’t change the habits of a lifetime. Watchers like to know what’s going on and you have the inside track with Mac and me. Should I call him and say I’ll go along with whatever he wants to organise?”

“Well, that would be the nice thing to do. But I didn’t think you did ‘nice’?”

“I don’t. But this is Mac, we’re talking about, and if I don’t do something, he’ll disappear off to his beloved Highlands and I won’t see him for six months. That would be a shame when I’m just getting used to having him around.”

“Do you know where he is now?”

“Still in the US as far as I’m aware. He’s probably gone up country to the cabin. That’s where he usually goes when he sulks. I’ll call him.”

“No cell phone reception if I remember correctly.”

“Means I’ll just have to go up there after him then. Okay …” He finished his beer and placed the glass carefully on the bar. “I’ll see you … some time.” A quick grin and he was out of the door leaving a once more bemused Joe Dawson staring after him.

 

A few days later the door to ‘Joe’s Bar’ swung open and in walked Duncan MacLeod, arm in arm with Methos. Both Immortals looked smug, by which Joe inferred that their quarrel had been satisfactorily resolved. By the time they reached the bar, he had two glasses set up for them.

“There you go. On the house.”

“Didn’t I say this was a fine establishment, Mac?”

“I don’t recall you ever saying that.”

“Just about every time I come in here.”

“Nope, definitely don’t recall you ever saying that.”

“Mac, I …”

Before they could descend into a pointless squabble, Joe interrupted.

“So, how were the mountains, Mac?”

“Beautiful as ever. But quiet until company arrived.”

Methos grinned and they shared a look which excluded the rest of the world. 

“And?” queried Joe.

“And?” replied two voices.

“And what’s happening about the birthday celebrations?” He knew they knew what he wanted to know but they had to drag it out. Small things amusing …well, not small minds exactly. But given the potential length of an Immortal’s life, they sometimes concentrated on the minutiae to the detriment of the bigger picture or the shorter life of a mortal such as Joe.

Sharing a conspiratorial look with his partner, Methos inserted a hand into the inside jacket pocket of MacLeod’s elegant suit and withdrew a cream envelope. Making something of a production of it, he bowed gracefully and handed the envelope to Joe.

The paper was thick and smooth, obviously quality, and Joe turned it over to see his name in an elegant script. 

“Come on, Joe, get it open.” Now that his performance was over, Methos was impatient to see his friend’s reaction.

Taking his time, Joe slipped a finger under the gummed flap and opened it. Inside was a handwritten card. As he read it, he started to laugh, a deep belly laugh.

The card read: “Methos invites you to attend his official 5000th birthday party to be held on Saturday 16 June 2001 at the home of Duncan MacLeod from 8.00pm til late. Please leave your sword at home.”

Grinning delightedly, Methos smacked Joe on the shoulder then sauntered off in the direction of the men’s room.

“How did you do it, Mac? I thought he was dead set against any kind of celebration.”

“Uh?” Mac’s attention had been focussed on the slim hipped figure disappearing across the room. “Oh I sulked.”

“You what?”

“Well, I didn’t actually sulk. But I let him believe that I was sulking. It seems that he pays far more attention to keeping me happy than he would ever let on to either of us.”

“The old softy.” Joe’s smile was fond. The off-times grumpy exterior of the world’s oldest Immortal was being shown up as another mask.

“I think he was secretly delighted that I wanted to recognise a special day for him but he wasn’t going to give in without a fight or at least a heated discussion.”

Further revelations were interrupted by the return of the ancient one. 

“What’s he been telling you, Joe? Don’t believe a word of it. I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. Something I’ve learned over the years. But there’s something to be said for pleasing someone you love.” 

Amazed at this admission, Joe was even more bemused when Methos leant over the bar and whispered in his ear. “But you see, Joe, it just goes to show that you can teach an old dog, new tricks.”

 

End


End file.
